


Dumpling Soup for the Soul

by ever_blue



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Caring NewtMas, Dumpling Noodle Soup, I'm rusty, I'm so sorry for this, M/M, No Smut, Other, Sassy Minho, Sick Minho, Sorry Not Sorry, Story is better than tags, crack fic?, idk - Freeform, pure fluff, tons of fluff, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:44:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_blue/pseuds/ever_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sassy Minho getting the royal treatment from Newt and Thomas.</p><p>Or.</p><p>Minho is sick and it's up to his two amazing(ly hot) boyfriends to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dumpling Soup for the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I am so sorry for the OOC, and some might think that Thominho overpowers Minewt and I"M SO SORRY I GOT DRUNK AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED.
> 
> I've been dead to the world about, a year? I'm so sorry to those that I've let down n my previous fics, DO NOT GIVE UP ON ME I WILL CONTINUE THEM I SWEAR. And yeah, please leave a kudos if you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated <3

 

Minho wakes up feeling like complete, utter crap. His nose is stuffy, yet runny at the same time, his eyes are all sticky and gooey and murky, his throat felt like as if he had swallowed a porcupine whole. The Asian’s head was pounding (Jesus, is his brain throwing a shucking party up there?) and his stomach churned, yesterday’s meal threatening to spill. He was warm, too warm for comfort. His entire being felt disgusting and gross and he needed to shower so badly. The lean teenager tried to sit up but no matter how hard he tried, his body wouldn’t listen.

Yep, there’s no denying it.

He reached for his cell phone hidden somewhere beneath the sheets.

The nineteen-year-old’s heart skipped a mini beat when he opened up a group chat between him, and his two most amazing boyfriends in the whole entire _shucking universe._

With only one thumb, he managed to type out _‘you’re majesty is sick, boys. get yer asses over here and cuddle me. n bring a mask.’_

Within a few seconds, Newt replied. _‘your* mind your grammar, Min’_

Thomas just replied with a _‘we will be there after our classes babe ;)))'_

Minho smiled to no-one in particular and chucked his phone under the blankets again, ignoring how hot and heavy his entire being felt. He didn’t know how but within minutes, he dozed off again.

 

 

*

 

 

A soft knock on the door woke him up from his stuffy slumber. Cracking open an eye, his mind took a while to process the two angels – _did he die in his sleep?_ – standing by his doorframe and realized that he had been probably dead to the world for half a day. With his mind still foggy from sleep, he noticed how the two angelic figures made their way to his bed side. Minho’s mattress dipped, indicating that one of them took a seat next to where his sick body laid. Another was standing right in front of him, and the Asian realized right then that _‘oh yeah, it’s my boyfriends’_ and he mumbled an incoherent greeting.

(And yes, he prepared a set of spare keys to his apartment for them both for reasons.)

He felt a cool palm pressing onto his forehead, and he vaguely hears Newt click his tongue. “Bloody hell Minho, you’re freaking hot.”

“I know,” the Asian retorted with a small, dopey smile.

He winced as Newt playfully slaps his arm, and he could hear Thomas chuckling by the bed side to his right. Minho could instantly imagine Newt rolling his eyes at his snarky remark.

“What I meant to say was, _you slinthead,_ you have a rampaging fever. Your eyes are bloodshot and you have snot running all over that pretty face of yours,” Newt scolds with his motherly voice. “Tommy and I got you some medicine and we’ll cook up some of your favourite –chicken dumpling noodles.”

Minho nods as he tries to sit up, but his body fails him once again. Thomas grabbed him by his toned waist and hoisted him up until he was lying against the bed frame. The noirette managed a small smile at Thomas as a silent ‘thanks’ and laced his fingers with the youngest of the three, without missing how concerned he suddenly looked.

“Newt’s right, Min. You’re burning, and alarmingly pale. We should get you, uh, showered. That should cool him down, right Newt?”

Newt nodded, giving gentle caresses to Minho’s neck and arm.

“Right you are, Tommy. We most definitely should.”

Smiling at his two adorable boyfriends, the patient croaked out “If only you two get into the showers with me.” Newt laughed and shook his head. Minho always had a way with things, even when sick.

“Alright, Tommy and I will get you cleaned up. C’mon, love, let’s get Min to the showers.”

The Asian pouted and frowned at the both of them as they lifted him up from his bed, one on each side.

“What, no ‘good morning’ kisses for the hot, sick guy?” The brunette made a face of disgust and ruffled Minho’s un-styled hair with his free hand.

“Not until you do something with that morning-breath of yours. And it’s already half past two, ya dumb shank.”

 

*

 

With his breath as fresh as a daisy, Minho found himself stumbling into the showers (stark naked, mind you) with Newt and Thomas right behind him, fully clothed, to Minho’s disappointment. The shower was almost too cramped up for three large teenagers, but somehow they managed. Sitting on the shower floor, his head felt too hot and heavy to even feel an ounce of shame as the blonde showered him and lathered his hair with shampoo and scrubbed carefully as to avoid getting any into his mono-lidded eyes. Feeling just a tad cooler than before, he allowed himself to be completely pampered by his boyfriends.

After Newt had his hair conditioned and rinsed (not to mention successfully avoided eye contact with Minho's _you-know-what_ ), he stepped aside to allow Thomas to give Minho a massage.

Because they know their sick boyfriend needed it more than anyone.

Although unfocused, he could practically feel his boyfriends’ gazes boring into his wet, naked body like a tiger to its prey. He turned his head around and saw Newt standing at one side, licking his lips as the blonde ravaged his bare back with his deep brown eyes, and Minho even found it in him to wink at his British hunk of a boyfriend.

With Minho facing the porcelain shower wall, Thomas did his magic on his shoulders and neck and _oh god it’s like having multiple orgasms at the same time and he could just die happy right there and then oh heaven help me-_

Thomas was blushing, too, catching glimpses of Minho’s junk as he massaged him. Thank the gods above his boyfriends did not seem to notice.

The brunette began to scrub his athletic boyfriend down with soap, carefully avoiding Minho’s most precious organ, with the Asian groaning every time Thomas purposefully manoeuvring over, above, left and right but never touching his junk and it frustrates Minho to no end, even when half his mind is muddled up by his fever. What Minho didn’t know was that each moan he made, it sent electrifying shivers up and down his boyfriends’ spine.

“Thomas you are a fucking _tease_ and you will regret this once I’m better I swear-”

Newt and Thomas laughed each time Minho whimpers from the non-existent foreplay and the brunette eventually rinses him off, somehow managing to stay completely dry. They carefully pulled the Asian up to dry him off with towels.

(And they were also thankful that Minho was too out of it to notice that they were both desperately trying to hide their raging boners.)

 

*

 

With Minho dried off and dressed with fresh laundry, Newt carefully sat Minho on the couch, placing butterfly kisses on his neck as he did so. His temperature has dropped slightly, but he’s still too warm, Newt notes.

“Ah shucks, boys. You guys are the best,” the Asian stated as Thomas makes himself busy in the kitchen. Newt hums in response, resting the noirette’s head on his shoulders.

“You should let us take care of you sometimes, Min. You stress yourself out too much.”

“And it’s been a while since I got myself this sick, huh? Both you and Thomas forgot your masks; I could get you guys sick, too.”

“Nah, me and Newt just recovered from the flu last week, remember?” Thomas said, unpacking stuff and getting the stove on.

The youngest of the three prepares the ingredients for his boyfriend’s favourite dish, and in no time, he’s done cooking and has cooked all three of them a hot, heart-warming meal. He scoops a dumpling along with some broth into the bowl with noodles and brings it out where Newt was cuddling a smiling Minho, occasionally sneaking kisses here and there. Minho looks up and the Asian fucking beams at him and Thomas swore Minho’s smile is his biggest weakness right there and then.

“Thank you, Thomas. How could I ever live without you?” Minho grabs his bowl and chopsticks and he was glad that his stomach wasn’t flipping out at the moment. His brunette sweetheart takes a seat next to him on the couch and kisses his cheek.

“That’s the point. You can’t live without me or Newt.” Thomas and Newt watched as their patient slurped down his noodles slowly, which was odd, because they know that Minho never eats slowly.

“Touché. This tastes pretty freaking good, Tom. You’re getting better at this,” the muscular teen comments, sighing happily with each sip of the soup. Newt leans over towards Minho.

“Let me have a bite.”

“No, babe, you’ll get infected too.”

“Min, Tommy and I are practically immune right now. Our immune systems are off the charts from our cold last week and our leucocytes have all the necessary-”

Before the blonde could finish, half a dumpling was stuffed in his mouth.

“Don’t talk biology to me, babe. My head can’t take it.”

Newt grumbled and cussed whilst chewing the dumpling, Thomas chuckling and pulling Minho in for a peck on the lips before getting the DVD player on, rummaging through the never ending pile of DVDs the Asian collected throughout the years. “Damn, you’re right, shuck face. Tommy’s culinary skills _are_ improving.” Minho just nods and slurps his noodles in content, hungry from skipping breakfast earlier that morning.

“That’s what I get when I date two idiots who can’t even make toast right. Now, Star Wars or Star Trek?”

Newt hums again, turning his face over to Minho. “We should let Min decide, he’s the patient, after all.”

The noirette ponders for a moment, but he didn’t feel like watching either Star Wars or Star Trek today.

“Let’s watch Interstellar.”

Thomas smiles knowingly, already ready with the disk. “Interstellar it is, then.”

With Minho in the middle and his boyfriends cuddling up to him on both sides peppering him with kisses, he melted contently into the sofa, what with his favourite dish cooked by Thomas and his favourite movie playing, headache and fever long forgotten.

 

*

 

Once the movie ended, it was about time for both Thomas and a teary-eyed Newt (the ending was seriously sad, okay?) to head back to their respective homes. After forcing their sick boyfriend to take a couple of pills for his fever and cold, Minho felt his fever wearing off, and he wasn’t on the verge of death anymore. In fact, he was up for some ‘bonding time,’ if you know what I mean.

“Since it’s Saturday tomorrow, why don’t you boys just stay here and keep me company? There’s plenty of space on my bed, and it could get sorta cold at night when I’m alone…” Minho tried his luck, even willing his eyes to slightly tear up.

Thomas and Newt both wore expressions of disbelief. The blonde turned towards the youngest of the three.

“Can you believe it, Tommy? Shank just got better and he’s tryna get into our bloody pants.”

Thomas smiled fondly at Newt, walked over and grabbed Minho by the waist and shrugged.

“I’m not complaining, though, Newt. It’s not like we have anything to do anyway. Besides, what if Minho flares up again in the middle of the night?” To add a dramatic effect, the Asian put on his best pout and puppy eyes; the blonde always have had a soft spot for his act, and he knew it. Newt rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to kick the both of them.

“Well, I guess someone has to take care of the big baby. And I can’t just let the both of you have all the fun, now, right? Count me in, Min.” Newt walked over to Thomas and kissed him full on the lips, then Minho, nibbling at the noirette’s bottom lip as he did. Resisting the urge to pump his fists into the air, Minho led his two smoking hot, lovely, caring boyfriends into his room, onto his king sized bed.

(Not to mention, he had a score to settle with Thomas and his stunt earlier.)

 

Who knew getting sick could be so much _fun_?

 

 


End file.
